


Go Ask Alice

by NotSoSirius92



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, Angst, Anticipation, F/M, Inspired by Alice in Wonderland, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Law Fic, Multi, Orgy, Reverse Harem, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoSirius92/pseuds/NotSoSirius92
Summary: Hermione has just been married to 6 men, and better yet? She's a virgin. Inspired by Alice in Wonderland, for Fairest of the Rares Before the Spring Snaps (disney) fest, Hermione must navigate the waters of her first marriage copulation, with 6 men. Oh hell, she really fell down the rabbit hole.See A/N for analysis and symbolism





	Go Ask Alice

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [TheFairestOfTheRare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFairestOfTheRare/pseuds/TheFairestOfTheRare) in the [BTSS2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BTSS2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
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> The Mad Hatter — Alice in Wonderland
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> Characters:  
> Alice/Queen of Hearts: Hermione  
> White Rabbit: Fred  
> Mad Hatter: Sirius  
> Caterpillar: Blaise - play on character name? Smoking?  
> March Hare: Remus (mating season?)  
> Dormouse: Neville  
> Cheshire Cat: Lucius 
> 
> Themes and Symbols:  
> Red - to signify adulthood, the loss of innocence  
> Hookah/mushrooms - the Amortenita, the effect the bonds create, lust.  
> Following rules vs Working within those rules  
> Queen of Hearts - unforgivable passion - the difference between Hermiones innocence at the beginning of the story vs. how accepting and ready she was at the end. 
> 
> beginning of the story vs. how accepting and ready she was at the end. 
> 
> The Hare and Hatter are mad (insane) for specific reasons: hares and rabbits are said to go mad in the Spring because it's their mating season, and hatters were said to go mad because of their exposure to mercury, a dangerous chemical used in the manufacture of the hats they sold. Sirius Black is often described as being a bit unhinged, even in youth. That’s partially canon, partially fanon, either way Sirius is always teetering on the edge of pureblood madness. The Dormouse doesn't seem mad, even though Neville is speaking in anger– even when it's telling a story. The cheshire cat is quite the cunning beast. He whispers in riddles and ultimately you cannot tell if he is friend or foe. The White Rabbit, the start of her journey, (Hermiones first kiss in school, to her first kiss after being married), he is mad about time. 
> 
> _Alice in Wonderland_ is the story of Alice emerging from childishness into a wise woman. Hermione is already wise, except in the sexual arena. The principle arrangement of this growth is two-parted. First Alice must learn that rules are essential to civil, adult life. Hermione knew this from a young age. Then she must learn that if rules are adhered to blindly, and without a merciful sense of justice, then society becomes worse than childish anarchy, it becomes a tyranny. Hermione had a hard time learning that in her youth, but did eventually catch on. But now she must maneuver through the political arena, as well as her budding romances. Going from innocence (Alice) to uninhibited (Queen of Hearts)
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> _Disclaimer: The Characters belong to JK Rowling. Some of the dialogue you will notice are quotes from Lewis Carroll. The plot and most other stuff however, is mine._

  
  


 

 

 

 

**Part I: The Marriage Law**

  


The day was bright.

 

Too bright - almost mockingly so.

 

She walked down an aisle that had been haphazardly thrown together within the last twenty four hours, and she wore no makeup - only red lipstick. She wore no wedding dress, either. To do so would be adhering to this farce she was being subjected to.

And a farce it was.

 

There were flowers of various colours that adorned the archway, and petals graced the floor - Luna’s idea, to try to brighten this day that would otherwise be so terrible. She couldn’t smile and pretend her life wasn’t being taken from her.

 

With deliberate steps, her red robes swishing around her - defiantly, bravely- the former Gryffindor made her way towards the men who stood before her, all wearing different expressions on their faces.

 

Sirius smiled encouragingly at her, his easy going nature making the tension in her shoulders lessen slightly. Remus, too, tried to smile, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. Neville and Fred both did her the courtesy of not scrutinizing her - their own eyes glanced around the crowd, probably wishing they were anywhere but here.

 

All of them were forced to be here as much as she was, because of the Marriage Law, and her husbands-to-be were very nearly as angry as she was. Though to be fair, they weren’t the ones being rounded up like livestock, the sole intent being to reinvigorate the magical community.

 

Sirius, Fred, and Blaise, at least. had been single. Lucius, Remus, and Nevilles’ marriages had all been dissolved, their wives paired up with half-blood and muggleborn men.

 

Homewrecker.

 

That’s what she felt like, as she looked at those ex-wives, sitting in the pews in an attempt to show solidarity amongst the women in the magical community - who for all intents and purposes had been stripped of their human rights, only held together by each other and dignity. It still pierced her heart to see their forced smiles, tears held back solely by the anger they all shared at the injustice.

 

The officiate stood awkwardly behind her wizards, averting his eyes as she took her place beside them.

 

“Do you have vows?”

 

Hermione spoke to her group, eyeing each of them meaningfully.

 

“Well, we’re stuck with each other. But I promise to try and make this as comfortable as possible.”

 

Sirius and Fred chuckled, and the other wizards, sans Lucius, gave her small smiles of appreciation.

 

The ceremony lasted all of ten minutes, and they all graciously accepted the false congratulations from the ministry officials that were present.

 

Harry and Ron pulled her aside briefly.

 

“We can still run away,” Harry whispered, and Ron nodded along, neither wizard happy with their own impending nuptials.

 

“No, we can’t,” Hermione stated apathetically. “We’re going to be the bloody poster children for this godforsaken law. As much as it pains me to say, we’re on the verge of extinction. That doesn’t mean we can’t rebel a little.”

 

She hugged her best friends, longer than was perhaps appropriate, but she didn’t care. She needed their comfort. Merlin knew they would all need a few comforts in the months to come.

  
  
  
  


 

**Part II: Through the Looking Glass**

  


She made her way to her suite in the newly renovated Black Manor. Sirius, being the most wealthy of the bunch, was adamant that since Hermione already lived there, it made the most sense for the others to follow suit. The others agreed without much reluctance, as the formerly married wizards had already left their other houses to their children and ex-wives.

 

The girls were already waiting for her, smiles and pretences dropped in the privacy of her own four walls.

 

Hermione hugged Tonks immediately, the witch’s mousy brown hair making her eyes prick.

 

“None of that,” Narcissa stated, her stoic appearance belied by the mirroring grief in her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry I’m doing this to you,” Hermione said, and the older witch brushed her off.

 

“I am doing it to someone else, so is Tonks.” Ginny spoke up from where she and Luna busied themselves pouring drinks, from which all of the women in the room took generous sips. “We have been forced into this by the men in power, and so we shall fight back as women. But right now is not the time for fighting. We need to adjust, then plan.”

 

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror as the women began undressing her. As was the custom in the wizarding world, her ladies prepared her for her first night with her wizards. They bathed her, washed her hair - taming it into submission - plucked hair from places that needed to be plucked, and all the while Hermione stared into that mirror, trying to find herself inside this shell she’d become. A body, with no other purpose.

 

Tragedy, she found, was a little more subtle than she’d ever thought possible.

 

Hermione Granger, the Brightest Witch of the Age, reduced to being a broodmare. Who was she without books and cleverness? She’d spend the next ten years popping out children from one husband or another. What about her dreams?

 

“When did everything we fight for become reduced to this injustice?” She asked to no one in particular.

 

“I’ve learned that complacency is common once there is nothing left to fear,” Narcissa spoke, the brush she ran through Hermione's hair calming her, despite the tension they were all feeling.

 

“It seems unreal.” Hermione leant her head into the womans’ touch. “When I used to read fairytales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened. And now, here I am in the middle of one… one that has somehow become more Brothers Grimm and less Disney.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Narcissa asked confusedly.

 

Hermione sighed, and glanced down at Ginny who was painting her fingernails. “Purebloods,” she said mischievously, causing them all to laugh and she basked in it, for surely it was brief.

 

“We will all be together in this,” Tonks said resolutely, though tears ran down her face unchecked. “I don’t know who I am without him, but who I am not. . . well, that list is longer. I won’t leave you alone in this.”

 

Hermione allowed herself to cry then, as dusk fell over them and signaled to her that her time was almost up.

 

Terrified, she stood up, and all of the women stood in a silent vigil, knowing what she had to lose - what she was being forced to give up.

 

Hermione looked in the mirror, asking questions to a reflection that held no answers. She was unrecognizable.

 

_Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle._

 

“I find that when I look into a reflection for too long it starts to speak to me,” Luna said quietly as she lotioned Hermione’s legs.

 

“What does the reflection say?” Hermione asked, long since forgiving Luna for her roundabout way of speaking. The thing with Luna was, she didn’t speak often. So when she did, there was usually a hidden point, typically profound, under her whimsical nature of speaking.

 

“Sometimes it asks me why I didn’t wear my radish earrings,” she mused, “and when I dated that boy last year- the one that told me he didn’t like my sunflower dress and I stopped wearing it- the mirror asked me why did I start wearing more black? When I married _my_ group of wizards last week, it asked me if I knew who I was.”

 

Hermione stared at the girl. “It asked you who you were?”

 

Luna shrugged. “A lion can try to imitate a snake. But a snake will hiss, and the lion still roars. Try as he might, the lion still has claws. Interesting, isn’t it?”

 

Hermione smiled. “So you’re asking me who __I_ _am?”

 

Luna shrugged her shoulders again, eyes widened innocently. “I thought your reflection was asking that?”

  
  
  


 

**Part III: The Red Queen**

  


She walked gracefully into the enlarged room, with the enlarged bed. Her red heels clicked on the cherry-wood floors, and the sound made her look more powerful than she actually felt. The wizards all stood upon her entry, gazing upon her red coat with varying degrees of approval.

 

Fred was the first to approach her, an easy smile on his face as he held out a hand for her to take.

 

“You’re very late,” he whispered, attempting to maintain some of his mischievous nature to reassure her.

 

Most people didn’t know, but Fred Weasley was her first kiss. After Ron had humiliated her during their fourth year, Fred had found her crying in the owlery, having himself just been thoroughly shagged for the first time. He’d assumed the owlery would have been empty and he could gather his thoughts and maybe send a letter to Charlie detailing the events of his night and asking for some good old fashioned brotherly advice. But upon seeing the small witch’s tears, something tugged in him uncomfortably, and he sat down next to her.

 

_“Ron is an idiot,” he had said, “you’re beautiful.”_

 

_Hermione sniffed, a small flush rising to her cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”_

 

_“Let me prove it to you,” he said earnestly. His hand reached up to cup her face, and Hermione’s eyes widened as he leant forward, pressing his mouth chastely against hers.  Hermione responded tentatively at first, but within a few moments had enthusiastically explored his mouth with her own, leaving Fred in quite a frustrated state. The kiss ended, and he smiled at her, an honest smile that lit his hazel eyes up endearingly._

 

_“You’re one of a kind, Granger.”_

 

They’d never spoken of it again, but Hermione and Fred had shared secret smiles together on occasion, and the witch had always felt more comfortable with him than most.

 

“Well,” she said prissily, taking his hand despite herself, “we’re married for the foreseeable future. A few minutes is nothing.”

 

“Not nothing,” he said impishly, and led her over to where her other wizards were waiting.

 

Lucius stood closest to her, and kissed her chastely on the mouth.

 

“I do not pretend that this is easy,” he stated empathetically, and she looked into his azure eyes, finding them less cold and calculating than she expected.

 

“I’ve taken the liberty of gathering some… libations.” He eyed her warily, knowing the girl’s reputation for rules. “A modified Amortentia.”

 

The glass was given to her and Hermione’s eyes went wide.

 

“Easy, Hermione,” Remus stated, and she met the werewolf's eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever. “We’re not going to drug you.”

 

“It just takes the edge off, and lowers your inhibitions. All of us placed a hair into the potion, which diluted it,” Blaise stated, smoke blowing through his nostrils. The dark wizard was the one with whom she’d had the least interaction with, and she was unsure how to respond. His stare was intense, and made her incredibly anxious, though she didn’t know if it was good or bad.

 

“We’ve all ingested it already,” he added on, and she now noticed how everyone’s pupils were dilated slightly, glazed, and she felt her nervousness double.

 

Hermione gathered herself resolutely and accepted the glass from him, eyeing her wizards one by one. Neville and Sirius had made their way closer, eyeing her with encouragement she was positive they didn’t feel.

 

“Just pretend you’re someone else,” Neville whispered. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

 

“But it’s no use now!” she said, and they all looked at her as she held her chin up. “Being two people. There’s hardly any of me left to be one person! So each of you will just have to accept your part. Because there is no _me_ anymore. I don’t know who I am.”

 

She sighed and calmed herself. “I can’t go back to yesterday. I was a different person then.”

 

She raised her glass, smiling a bit when they each followed suit.

 

“I suppose I should drink this,” she mused. “Here’s to us.”

  
  
  


 

**Part IV: Down the Rabbit Hole**

  


The liquid tumbled down her throat and Hermione felt herself succumb to the effects of the laced whiskey, throwing herself down the rabbit hole without considering how she was to get out again.

 

A haze immediately clouded her judgement, and she found herself swaying slightly.

 

“Whoa there, Granger,” Fred said lightly, and Hermione noticed how pleasant his voice was. He stood behind her, secure arms coming to rest gently on her hips, a delightful presence. He smelled like pine and cinnamon, fresh and piney and and so unique to him. He tilted her face upwards, sure fingers gripping her chin, his red hair a flaming halo above her.

 

He smelled her hair, her skin. Decadent. She was sweet, and fresh, not overdone like most women he’d been with. Her scent was natural, as if she didn’t have any other way to smell. The crook of her neck was the same. Sweet and fresh and natural, and she was looking at him. Trusting, inviting, and he felt a prick of guilt for having to do it this way - she deserved much more - but alas, these were the cards they had to play. She was his Queen of Hearts.

 

When his lips met hers, the normally witty redhead had no words. She tasted as fresh as she smelled, and she was soft in all of the right places. She was still innocent, but Fred could tell she’d been kissed properly since the last time they’d snogged. She nibbled on his lower lip, tugging it into her mouth as she angled her head towards his. Forever trying to get closer.

 

“I’ve waited so long for you,” he whispered, for her only, acutely aware of the other aroused men in the room. “I’ve waited on you for what feels like forever.”

 

Hermione gazed at his lust-filled eyes quizzically. “How long is forever?”

 

He smiled crookedly at her. “Sometimes?” His hands slid under her shirt, leaving a trail of fire burning her ribcage. “Just one second.”

  
  
  


 

**Part V: The Cats Grin**

  


It had been easily twenty years since he’d been in a drug-induced haze, and the effect it had was astounding.

 

His normally cool, collected exterior seemed to waste away as he allowed himself to grin at his bride being worked up by the blood traitor - no, by Fred Weasley.

 

The little witch in red had snuggled her way into his heart since the ceremony - such was the effect of a marriage bond.

 

He didn’t love her - no. Narcissa would always be his love. The beautiful, vivacious witch had held his heart for over twenty years. _She_ was everything. And yet, here he was forced into a sham of a marriage with not only the Golden Gryffindor Muggleborn, but someone who was more often than not the bane of his existence. To top that off he had to share a house with four other men, none of whom he actually got on with.

 

So no, he didn’t love Hermione Granger, but he knew he’d never allow any harm to come to her.

 

_This is mad._

 

She had a beautiful flush spreading across her neck and face, and the mousy boy, Neville Longbottom, grabbed her hand, easing her out of her red trench coat - revealing her body clad in beautiful red and black negligee. A present begging to be unwrapped.

 

Unable to watch the fumblings of men twenty years his junior, Lucius brushed them aside, taking one long finger and running it along the straps of her shoulders.

 

“You are… intriguing, to me.” He looked into her eyes and grinned salaciously. “I can’t pretend that I don’t desire you, but I do not think I can be your first. My tastes are very… singular.”

 

She swallowed and looked at him, and then every other wizard in the room, looking entirely lustful and yet still overwhelmed.

 

He wondered, not for the first time, how’d he’d managed to be paired with someone who’d been tortured in his house.

 

“This is insane,” she murmured, her lashes fluttering as Weasley moved his hands across her shoulders. “Completely mad.”

 

Lucius merely arched a blonde eyebrow at her, wondering how - for the life of him - he had found himself in this mess.

 

“We’re all a little mad, here.”

  
  


 

**Part VI: Mad as a Hatter**

  


Sirius Black was possessive, of that much he was sure. He’d never willfully looked at the witch whose arousal washed his senses to the point of driving him completely mental. But he found that he was entranced. He was disgusted with himself. He was now married to a witch whose best friend was his godson. He had noticed she was beautiful - of course, what man wouldn’t? - but he’d _tried_ to never sexualize her because she was firmly in the _unattainable_ category in his brain. Most of the time, he was successful.

 

But not anymore. Now she was within reach, offering herself to him and her other husbands, despite the fact that he _knew_ she was untouched.

 

Bonkers.

 

_Have I gone mad?_ He asked himself, sure that at least Remus would feel the same way he was.

 

He was surprised to find the werewolf in the corner, his eyes watching her with the same encompassing look Sirius himself was sure he had. _Predator_ , his canine senses screamed.

 

Sirius nudged his best mate sharply.

 

“Control yourself,” he reprimanded.

 

“I’m _trying,_ ” Remus growled, gritting his teeth together and visibly taking a breath. “The problem is, now that the bond is settled, Moony knows she belongs to him. It goes against his nature to let other _men,_ ” he snarled the word, despite the look of horror gracing his features, “touch her. Dora is my true mate, my Beta, but now Hermione belongs to him. To me. I’m not ready for this.”

 

Sirius looked around, all of the men in the room had nothing but eyes for the witch in its center, their desires superseding her comfort, and Sirius snarled slightly.

 

Well, that just won’t do.

 

“Enough,” he said quietly, pushing his way through the men he was bonded with, taking note of their defensive posturing. “You are here for her, not yourselves.”

 

He took the small witch in his arms, looking into her eyes intently.

 

“How can we make this comfortable for you?”

 

“It’s impossible,” Hermione whispered to him. Her body betrayed her desire even as her lips spewed their falsities.

 

“Only if you believe it is,” he whispered back, taking her into his arms and laying her gently on the bed.

 

He began taking his own shirt off, figuring she must feel vulnerable to be the only one is such a state of undress, and saw the other husbands follow suit. He placed her gently between his knees, laying her back against his chest, and running his fingers through her thick mane in an attempt to relax her. Sirius had envisioned doing this to her once or twice, in dreams, and had always awoken with a stiff, and more than a little shame. But his shame, sins, and everything in between no longer mattered. Only she did.

 

“We can do this, kitten,” he whispered soothingly, cursing himself for enjoying the way his breath on her neck caused her arms to break into gooseflesh. “It's not impossible.”

 

“You’re right,” she whispered lazily, “sometimes I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

 

Sirius grinned at the snarkiness he heard in her voice, and relished the confidence with which she spread her body out in front of him, brazenly baring herself to the men surrounding her.

 

“That is an excellent practice.”

  
  
  


 

**Part VII: Smoke and Mirrors**

  


Whilst the rest of his companions rushed to join her on the bed, heaving like the beasts they were, Blaise sat back in a chair, watching and waiting. Smoke billowed out of his nostrils in a strangely sensual way, the white clouds a stark contrast from his dark skin.

 

He was not so stupid to believe he would have been Granger’s choice for a husband, ever. The enmity between his friends and hers had decreased since the end of the war, sure, but they still never spoke to each other outside of the occasional Ministry function they were both bound to attend.

 

She was still enticing. And Blaise knew his way around a woman. He’d had a reputation for greatness, the foremost ladies’ man at Hogwarts. The rumors hadn’t been unfounded.

 

He felt desire wage war with the pity he felt for his _wife_ being surrounded by her husbands as though they were panting dogs.

 

He sighed, swallowed the last vestiges of his drink and put his joint out. He caught her eye as she was deposited into the center of the bed by Sirius Black, and he nodded gently to her, sitting at the foot of the bed.

 

He leaned forward, placed her leg atop his thigh, and began rubbing soothing circles into the arch of her small and rather pretty feet.

 

She continued to stare at him, a curious look in her glazed eyes, and he was happy that he did not blush easily. He only wanted her to relax. He knew this night would be long for her, and he wanted to do what he could to help her enjoy it.

 

Her moans of appreciation were music to his ears.

 

He had a perfect view of her, those damn-near see through red knickers, Gryffindor to her core, and Blaise had to fight not to lose himself.

 

Running his nose along the underside of her calf, he locked eyes with her husbands, all giving him swift nods, noting that this was the most relaxed she’d been since she’d stepped into the room.

 

“Granger,” he whispered, and her eyes snapped to meet his once more.

 

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine that this evening will be altogether the most pleasant for you, so please allow me to at least give you this. I _want_ to.”

 

She stared at him wide-eyed. “I feel so small right now.”

 

Blaise never broke eye contact from her as he divested himself of his shirt.

 

“What size do you want to be?” he asked her, spreading her knees apart and lowering himself between them.

 

“I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid,” she whimpered slightly as his breath fanned over her slit, “I’m not myself, you see.”

 

“You’ll get used to it in time. To us. Let us make you feel good, Hermione.”

 

His tongue began exploring her body in the most exquisitely awful ways…

  
  
  


 

**Part VIII: Remember What the Dormouse Said**

  
  


“Poor little mouse.” Neville glanced to the side of him to see Lucius bloody Malfoy of all people sidling up next to him, a cigar falling gracefully from his lips. “Enjoying the show, are we?”

 

Neville hated the antagonistic tone the older man was speaking to him with.

 

Lucius Malfoy was goading him, mistaking him for the terrified boy he’d once been. Neville was no longer a mousy boy, and maybe Malfoy needed reminding just _who_ had beheaded his master’s last Horcrux.

 

“Sod off,” Neville answered with a glare, rising from the chair he’d been sitting in. “See all of the trouble you’ve started? Your _kind_ ,” he sneered so viciously that Lucius was quite taken aback.

 

“Listen here, _death eater_.” Neville’s voice dropped so low that no one else could’ve heard even if they hadn’t been enraptured with the witch who’d wriggled her way into their hearts. “Do not assume that the blame lies anywhere else. Had you and your brethren not pillaged and burned and murdered and raped our women and children, we would not be in this mess. You licked the boots of that monster, and here is your penance. If any of us even remotely think you have in any way upset Hermione with your prejudices, believe that you will not live long enough to see her cry.”

 

“Poor little mouse,” Lucius repeated softly, though the bite in his words had lessened. “I’d hate to see you drown in a pool of tears. Believe me when I say I have no desire to hurt her. Like it or not, blame me or not, we’re stuck together.”

 

Neville gave him a curt nod before making his own way to the bed that was full yet somehow expanded enough to fit them all.

 

Neville didn’t want to overwhelm her, though from the moans of pleasure she was making he didn’t think she’d much care right now - he knew she would be embarrassed in the morning, however. Neville had been Hermione Granger’s first friend, and still sometimes thought he might even know her better than Harry and Ron, for all of their lack of astuteness for their friend’s feelings.

 

She had a beautiful red flush on her face, spreading down between two pert breasts that heaved as she writhed and shook her head back and forth.

 

Sirius Black was teasing her nipples languidly while she laid against him, Fred Weasley was placing chaste kisses on her neck. Blaise’s head was between her legs and Neville was captivated by her responsiveness.

 

Not sure what else there was to do, he removed his trousers, thinking that propriety was long since gone. Not that he was ashamed or anything, but Neville wondered if she would find him lacking after experiencing these men before him. Men that he knew were more adequate, more experienced in pleasing a woman than he was.

 

A quiet whimper escaped his mouth as he began stroking himself, watching and memorizing every minute detail of her expressions. He knew he couldn’t release until she did, because she comes first. But Neville knew that the lust potion mixed with the succulent aroma of sex in the air would drive him mad within minutes if he allowed it.

 

How they found themselves in this mess he would never know, but Neville was determined to make the most of it.

 

_There is room for growth here._

 

Hermione’s eyes caught his and she beckoned him over with the smallest reach of her hand, and Neville was immediately at her side.

 

“Yes, love?” His voice was gravelly, and she looked up at him through hooded eyes.

 

“Let me,” was all she said, before her tiny hand encircled him in an iron grip.

 

The sensation was maddening.

  
  
  


 

**Part IX: The March Madness**

  


It was strange, really.

 

So many people, so vulnerable in one room. One desire for the witch before them to be as impassioned as they all were. It was strange that he held no contempt for the men in the room despite the fact that he didn’t like them touching __his_ _ wife, which Moony __really_ _did not like.

 

Remus tried to calm his wolf, reminding himself that he was bound by law and ritual to the witch and her husbands, and the wolf needed to play nice rather than acting rabid.

 

Stranger yet, were his fast fading feelings of shame at having to bed his former student. Admittedly, she certainly didn’t __look_ _ like his student anymore. Nor was the guilt he felt about his ex-wife as all consuming as this need to touch his new wife was becoming.

 

He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but dammit, it was his turn.

 

“Excuse me, Blaise.” The tall, dark-skinned man looked at his former professor with one measured eyebrow before leaving his place between her legs and climbing to the other side of the bed.

 

He glanced at Sirius, who was looking at him with a familiar gleam in his eyes that Remus hadn’t seen since Hogwarts. They certainly were no strangers to sharing with each other - not that many people, besides the witches of their Hogwarts days, knew about it.

 

Sirius nodded to him once, his fingers playing against the witch’s breasts in a hypnotic rhythm. The witch herself had opened her eyes to gaze at him. Shyly.

 

“Remus?” His name was a sigh on her breathless lips. His nostrils flared. Eyes gold.

 

“You’re frightened of me.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“Yes - well, no, that’s not what I meant,” she said hastily.

 

“Then say what you mean.”

 

She caressed his face endearingly. “I’ve just always respected you so much, and the guilt. . .I feel guilty that I look at you and I want.”

 

“What do you want?” He asked, kneeling between her legs.

 

“I want you to touch me,” was all she said, and suddenly his fingers and his mouth were on her.

 

He tortured her with his ministrations, drawing animalistic paintings with his tongue until he was sure she was on the edge, and then he’d back off. Couldn’t let the witch get too greedy - she’d already had four other men touching her, all of them in silent agreement that she would be a heaving, thriving mess before they took her over the edge.

 

“Remus, I can’t… I can’t,” she panted, “I can’t think straight.”

 

He gave her a feral smirk. “If you can’t think, then you shouldn’t talk.”

 

Sirius caught his eye once more and grinned, that gleam in his eye.

 

They were both mad.

  
  


 

**Part X: Jar of Hearts**

  


Hermione Granger had felt many emotions in her life; overwhelming desire had never been one of them. Amazingly, she’d gone, in less than twenty-four hours, from a timid virgin to a writhing mess in a bed with men whom she was about to have an orgy.

 

The thought made her feel positively wicked. Not as wicked, however, as she felt at the thought of Remus Lupin’s head between her legs. Not as wicked as she felt at how Sirius Black was working over her neck and caressed her body, with Neville’s length in her hand, Blaise stroking himself while looking into her eyes with a furious desire, and Fred pulling her mouth into a soul searing kiss. Her last husband lorded over her, ever watchful, his gaze calculating every single breath she took for future reference.

 

They were everywhere, and nowhere at all.

 

Somehow she’d become uninhibited.

 

It was maddening.

 

“This is mad,” she gasped out, hating the way she felt the need to burst, though she didn’t understand why.

 

“We’re all mad,” Lucius repeated to her once more, his pupils dilating as he shifted.

 

“How do you know I’m mad?” Suddenly she was turned over and pulled to her feet, all of her men on their knees in front of her. Subservient, desireful, waiting. Like she was a queen, and they were her humble servants.

 

Hers.

 

“You must be,” Lucius smiled a cheshire grin, “otherwise you wouldn’t have come here.”

 

It was freeing, falling into the darkness with him.

 

She wore nothing but red lipstick and a smile, every nerve in her body a livewire as she surveyed each of them.

 

Ready. Waiting. Willing. Hermione supposed she had gained her “muchness.”

 

Her world was a bit messy, true, but it was hers. She was here, and she couldn’t run, so she allowed herself to fall into a wonderland of madness.

 

“Who goes first?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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